


Anesthesia Awareness

by strawberrytaxidermy



Category: Skullgirls (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blood and Violence, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, F/F, Flashbacks, Hurt No Comfort, Lesbians, Platonic Cuddling, Psychological Trauma, Reunions, Unrequited Love, here we have hit peak lesbianism, it isnt pretty, physical affection, physical comfort, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrytaxidermy/pseuds/strawberrytaxidermy
Summary: After she was sure the anesthetics were applied, the last thing Marie expected after blacking out was feeling the surgeon’s scalpel slicing into her
Relationships: Marie Korbel/Peacock, Marie Korbel/Peacock (one-sided)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Anesthesia Awareness

**Author's Note:**

> “i want peacock and marie to be happy” i say as i write more unrequited peacock/marie angst

The Skull Heart excelled at fulfilling its intended purpose. Making its user so numb, so emotionless, they became merely a shell, an object. Desiring nothing but chaos and destruction. Marie knew before she made her wish how brutal the aftermath would be. All the people that would die, all the fear her very existence would bring. But after being abused all her life, Marie didn’t care. Not in the slightest. Anything to rid of that utterly worthless Medici family. With time passing, Marie felt herself more and more void of any type of feeling, mental or physical. The pain of her past that once pushed her to the very brink of breakdowns no longer hurt like it once did, only existing now as a blank reason to kill a few dozen more people. Yet, despite all the numbing, Marie was never prepared for the hurt of seeing the one person she swore she’d protect to come up the old, winding, cement stairs of the Grand Cathedral. 

  
  


“Marie!” She said, voice so mechanic and artificial, yet so familiar and painful. 

It was Patricia. Her dearest friend, her only comfort. The only person in this cruel world that ever showed her any shred of genuine kindness. In complete darkness, Patricia was a radiant light. Everything she ever knew came from the younger girl. How to use her words, use her hands, use her heart. Patricia was her everything, even now. Her present state, the world’s current normal, was really because of her. Everything revolved around Patricia, inside and outside. The day she swore she’d seen Patricia fall out of reality was the day Marie truly gave up on everything. She had lost the one thing that gave her any bit of hope. She was sure Patricia was gone, how couldn’t she be? No eyes, no teeth, no arms. If the relentless beating of multiple Medici men didn’t kill her, then surely all the loss of blood would. Marie heard her scream, heard her bones shatter upon impact, the sharpening of knives, the dislocating of her joints, the sound of her muscles being torn after being sliced into. It all haunted her. She thought about it daily, she never once stopped mourning her best friend. Who was surely gone, surely died. But her eyes said otherwise. The once mangled body she couldn’t unsee on the other girl had been repaired in the strangest of ways. Her once bloodied, beaten in sockets, now showed no sign of bruising, just completely black, hollow and empty. Her arms, now springs, adorned with some sort of mechanic set of eyes, that reflected her own astonished expression right back at her. Patricia had been left for dead, Marie was almost certain that she was. Yet, here she stood, completely new, completely _fixed,_ right in front of her very eyes. In all the time they’d been apart, Patricia had become so different, yet there was no denying that it really was her. Marie didn’t know she was capable of feeling anything, not anymore. But as she analyzed her dear friend and a pang of regret shot through her, she knew that wasn’t true. 

_You’re alive, you’re fixed, I’ve missed you so much_ all went unsaid on Marie’s part. As much as she wanted to take the other girl into her arms after so long, and tell her how she’s never stopped thinking about her all these years, she didn’t say it. She knew, in bitterness and terrible analogy, that a sweet reunion isn’t at all why Patricia was here. There would only be one reason for someone to fix her like this. The reasoning was unmistakable.

“...Patricia,” Marie sighed, name almost forgein on her tongue “You should not have come. Do not worry about me… my quest is nearly at an end.”

The Skullgirl looked for signs of hurt in the other, but didn’t find much in her sharp-toothed smile. In that smile, however, Marie only saw the open roots and bloodied, empty gums that made her run away years ago. The reassuring smile Patricia used to give her was like no other. With some missing teeth in her gums, and somewhat sharp canines, her smile was so hers. It made Marie so warm every time she saw it. She never even knew if she’d ever see Patricia smile again. The fact that she could even smile after everything that happened to her was admirable. Marie knew Patricia was tough as nails, even more so. Yet, even after she was beaten to a pulp, she didn’t seem to change. For better or for worse, this went against everything she had ever known. 

“Oh, please. Don’t worry about you? Some hellish MacGuffin has turned you into an undead, killing machine! So of course I’m worried about you!” 

Patricia’s brows upturned, only somewhat visible behind a ginger tuft of hair. A tuft of hair she didn’t even know she had, not after being so used to her wisp-free slicked back-do with uniform requirements. She was always curious on how Patricia would dress, how she’d style her hair, what kind of things she would do if she had the choice. Marie remembered, way back when, under nice tablecloths in the dead of night, in the midst of silly questions, the two of them would share how they wish they could dress together. Marie specifically recalled how often her friend would mention those old silly cartoons she’d watch now on then, on old VHS tapes, in secret. She never seemed to mind their age, they were her inspiration in _everything_. It’s only fitting she was reminding Marie of one right now. Eyes, top hat and all. She remembered back then how sometimes completely annoyed she was that Patricia seemed so invested in what was merely fiction. But looking back on it now, it was really her only escape from what was real. After all, what was real was terrible, it was violent and cold. Which brought Marie back to the present. She’d make Patricia understand, try everything she could to make Patricia want to flee the Cathedral and never return. Before the uncontrollable power of the Skullheart became too much for Marie to bear. Before it hurt Patricia, she would try to protect her. Just like she said she would. Just like she promised. 

“Look, Patricia.” Marie quietly said “You’ll understand.”

Marie grabbed Patricia’s hand, she let her do so, too. They used to hold hands. All the time. Any time the two could get away with it. Marie had many fond memories of Patricia holding her hand. How warm and loved the simple touch would make her feel. Patricia’s very existance made her feel that way. Sometimes just having Patricia there to ramble about her strange cartoons, or how silly her tasks were for that day, her chipper voice alone was so comforting. Though, nothing really compared to how erratic her heart rate became when Patricia would offer physical touches. What she couldn’t display through words, she would give through affection. Long, warm embraces, hand holding, gentle, rhythmic caresses. Hell, even sometimes, when she’d wake up hours before the sun, graphic nightmares in her head, sometimes Patricia would offer herself up to help Marie. Holding her close, on cold, hardwood floors, beneath thin blankets. No luxurious, king sized bed, with duvet comforters and electric blankets could ever compare to the comfort Marie got from just having Patricia hold her. It was almost motherly, but to compare Patricia to a mother didn’t feel right. She was her friend, yet, offered so much more than she would ever expect a “friend” to do. Marie remembered how scared she would get, when she was threatened by one of the men, or when she could hear a beating of another girl from a distance. But whenever she felt her eyes brimming with tears, or her body trembling in fear, Patricia was always there. It was almost embarrassing, at first. She’s older than Patricia, and she was looked up to by many of the other girls. But it didn’t take long until Patricia’s comfort became the usual. Marie even began to return it, though she was always too flustered to initiate. Between the two, physical affection was normal. Something the two would partake in daily.

Through the blue lit caverns, Patricia’s hand in hers, she couldn’t help but feel her skin heat remembering how she would desperately squeeze Patricia’s hand in times of need. But immediately upon contact, her thoughts quickly swarmed to how the oversized, silly looking gloves she was sporting felt far different from the soft, petite hand Marie used to clasp on to in times where she needed comfort. How, back then, Patricia tenderly holding the other girl’s hand was all she needed to whisk away any existing fear and bring her into a temporary peace. Her glove was cold, and big. And this time around, Marie was the one who initiated. She kept her hold gentle, but tried to feel for some sort of purchase on the gloves. Nothing remotely close to the gentle safety blanket it used to be. Intent completely different. The tight hold of the girl’s hands back was nothing more than a non-verbal _stay with me._ Now, though, it was the complete opposite. A simple act of guidance, one that, hopefully, told Patricia to leave, and never, ever return. It was just like old times, except that it wasn’t. Leading her over to one of the many stacked-high piles of well-preserved corpses, she could feel the mechanics underneath her glove halt at the sight. 

“Woah,” Her voice was a whisper “Is that… him? All these people are-“

“Evil.” Marie finished “From the slave traders of Rommelgrad to their patrons. All Medici’s must perish.”

That voice in Marie’s head, nagging her to let go of all her restraints and just smash everything around her into pieces only increased in volume. Making her head pound in a way that tried to drown everything out. 

“Patricia,” Marie said, through hurt in her heart and tensity in her body “Please leave. I cannot guarantee your safety any longer.” 

For the first time since she was beaten in, Marie saw a hurt in Patricia. A hurt, but a hurt that carried sympathetic longing, too. Like when Patricia used to comfort her, tell her that she would always be there for her. _That you'd always be close, because you were best friends. Forever and always._ Even if you had to kill each other, but neither of you knew of that fate then. 

“...You know I can’t do that,” She said, offering a gentle smile “It must be taking everything you’ve got to fight that thing inside ‘ya. And one day, you’ll slip up. You’ll be just as bad as those guys… or worse.” 

And she was right. Marie knew that. She knew before she even made that _stupid_ wish. But she made a gamble, there was no way Patricia could be alive to see it. Not after the gruesome way she died. Or should’ve died. Before some bunch of pure, wholehearted saints came down to fix her up brand new. Now, even without her trusty set of biological eyes, she could see for herself what a terrible _monster_ Marie had become. And it was all for her. She looked just like an Anti-Skullgirl soldier, and almost like that friend who once made up her entire heart. Her deflated, empty heart begging for Patricia’s soft embrace and her novocaine mind kicking the door in with heavy feet were conflicting with each other in ways that made Marie want to _scream._ She was now regretting despite everything inside her telling her to _shut up and stomp her ugly face in. Just like those Medici freaks that made you make this wish in the first place._ And suddenly, every single emotion she thought she dropped was now crawling back to her full force. It was all becoming too overwhelming, like she could hardly breath beneath the pile of everything she thought she was numb to.

“You leave me no choice but to rip that Skull Heart right out of you!”

  
 _I love you. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to turn out like this._ It was all quickly drowned by the toxic sludge of destruction that Marie could no longer restrain. With a stinging hurt in her eyes that blinded her sight, she could hardly see Patricia below her drawing her gun.

**Author's Note:**

> someone already wrote a less angsty but still angsty one-sided peacock/marie fic based off of the peacock story mode marie battle but that one was based on the ending prologue not the beginning prologue and i am not a thief 
> 
> ALSO yes i changed some of the dialogue shut up


End file.
